


what desire makes foolish people do

by orphan_account



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Drunk Sex, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-25
Updated: 2014-01-25
Packaged: 2018-01-10 01:12:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1153014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a loss to Dallas, Zhenya just wants to get drunk with his best friend.  But then his best friend brings the rookie along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	what desire makes foolish people do

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blathering_kat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blathering_kat/gifts).



> BECAUSE I AM THE WORST AT CHALLENGES. first this was supposed to be geno/nealer, but then because i was taking too long she changed it to val/geno, and then because i was still taking too long she told me to make it omega!geno. so. 
> 
> a million and one thanks to Lux for being such an amazing cheerleader, and to Laura for being the world's best, speediest beta
> 
> after a forever and a half, here finally is your prize ❤

The game against Dallas is an annoying one, and Zhenya's in a foul enough mood after that he nearly backs out of drinks with Seryozha. But he hasn't seen him in ages, and he really does miss the old grump.

He nearly changes his mind when he sees who's with him. "Seryozha, _no_ ," he begins, not even wanting to look at that- ugh, hopeful smiling face. 

"Hello, Evgeni Vladimirovich," Nichushkin says eagerly, beaming at him. "It is such an honor-"

"Cut the formal crap," Zhenya tells him grumpily, and then turns back to Seryozha to hiss, "and he's _not_ coming along, is he?"

"Zhenya, don't start this." Seryozha sighs, "and yes, he is coming. He's been so looking forward to meeting you. Don't be an ass."

" _Zhenya_ ," Nichushkin breathes out, and Zhenya can nearly see visible hearts floating around his head. Zhenya knows this song and dance well. After seven years as the most visible omega in the NHL, he knows how to spot when an alpha wants in his pants. This is definitely not how he wanted to spend a rare night out with his best friend.

"He's _eighteen_ ," he snaps at Seryozha, ignoring how the little brat ( _Seryozha-thief_ his mind whispers) droops. 

Seryozha scoffs. "When was that ever a problem for you?"

"I don't remember you being so easy with it when it was me," Zhenya says accusingly. Seryozha sighs again, and Zhenya bites back a surly comment about how old age is turning him into a fishwife.

"It was different for you and you know it," Seryozha says wearily. "Always going after the biggest, drunkest alphas in the room-"

" _Stop_ ," Zhenya groans. He'd rather not air his sexual exploits in front of some rookie who's now looking at him with enormous eyes. It gives them _ideas_.

He scowls at Seryozha, who just raises his eyebrow at him maddeningly. _Fine_. He'll play nice. For Seryozha.

\---

The bar Seryozha picks turns out to be packed, and the three of them have to cram together in a tiny corner booth, Zhenya sandwiched between Seryozha and Nichushkin (and Zhenya despairs of Seryozha's overprotective mother henning, he really does- does Seryozha think an alpha is just going to pluck him out of his seat?). On the bright side, Nichushkin eagerly offers to get drinks for them for the first round and then every round after that, and Zhenya really doesn't know how he's not getting carded, honestly. He's got the babiest face Zhenya's ever seen (and he knew Sid as an almost-rookie).

Still, he's not going to turn down free alcohol, and at least Nichushkin knows to get the good vodka. He feels generous enough to pretend not to notice Nichushkin squeezing ever closer to his side with every return trip. Nichushkin doesn’t say much at first, just tucking himself close and listening raptly as Zhenya and Seryozha talk about Natalie and Victoria'

Nichushkin is apparently, and perhaps unsurprisingly, well-acquainted with the Gonchar family, and chimes in with a story about Victoria making him dress up for tea. Zhenya scowls at him for the reminder that Seryozha has _replaced_ him (and little Victoria as well, apparently). Nichushkin nearly falters, and then Zhenya grunts at the sharp elbow in his side. 

“Play nice, brat,” Seryozha hisses in his ear, and Zhenya can feel himself go a dull red at how Nichushkin bites back a smile. _Wonderful_ , he thinks moodily. Now he’s being chastised like a child in front of the _real_ child. He frowns again at Nichushkin, but Seryozha, damn him, seems to have erased any intimidation Zhenya had going for him, and Nichushkin’s smile just broadens and he finished his story much more confidently.

“I looked foolish, I’m sure, but Victoria was very cute with her crown,” he confides, and Zhenya grudgingly has to agree that yes, Victoria _is_ very cute and precious. At least Nichushkin isn’t so much of an idiot to not recognize that. And Nichushkin also probably did look foolish. Zhenya relaxes minutely against Nichushkin, and Nichushkin beams happily at him and scoots ever so slightly closer to Zhenya. It’s probably just the booze and Nichushkin’s improbably appealing alphascent, but Zhenya has the odd desire to share an embarrassing story of his own.

“When Natasha was just a baby,” he tells Nichushkin, gesturing with his hands to demonstrate how very small she had been, “we used to watch children’s shows together, to learn English. She’d bring home flashcards from school and quiz me.” Nichushkin nods quickly and leans in closer, looking charmed.

“But I was young too, and too trusting,” he says, and he elbows Seryozha without looking when he hears a derisive snort. “Shut up, I’m telling a story now,” he says, not looking away from his rapt audience.

“And she tells me, ‘break a leg’ means good luck in English, yeah? But she told me, you have to _tell_ them to break a leg, and I think, this is a very strange culture. But she probably knows better than I do, she’s lived here longer,” Zhenya continues. “So Sid gets announced as new captain, right?”

“Oh no,” Nichushkin says, hushed, a horrified smile spreading across his face. 

“Yes,” Zhenya tells him resignedly, the sting of embarrassment still sharp in his stomach. “And I’m so excited to show I know American culture, so I go up to him in front of everyone, and I clap him on the shoulder, and tell him, ‘I break your legs!’”

Nichushkin laughs harder than Zhenya thinks his story strictly merits, but he feels unaccountably pleased to see his face open and happy. He downs the rest of his drink in one go and thinks maybe, he should be a bit nicer to the rookie. Maybe. His head is spinning from the vodka, and Nichushkin smells nice, and it’s all getting hard to remember why he’s angry at him in the first place.

So the next time Nichushkin comes back from the bar, he slings an arm companionably over his shoulders. He's got very nice, broad shoulders, Zhenya thinks appreciatively. Maybe he should tell him that. He remembers being a rookie and feeling gawky and awkward in a room full of strong, built alphas. 

"You have great shoulders," Zhenya tells him seriously, patting at them demonstrably. "Very strong." Somewhere to his right, he hears Seryozha sigh into his hands, but then Nichushkin flushes horribly red and beams up at him, and Seryozha matters much less.

"Thank you," he stammers earnestly up at Zhenya. "I- I work out." He flushes even more deeply and turns his face away, and Zhenya feels charmed despite himself. 

"It shows, darling," he croons, and Seryozha chokes on a laugh. Zhenya elbows him. He lost tonight, he's drunk, and he's not going to let Seryozha cockblock him.

At the moment, though, Zhenya feels a more pressing need, and he motions to go to the bathroom. Nichushkin's eyes go huge. "You want- Should I go--," he asks fumblingly, and Zhenya laughs. 

"No idiot, I have to piss," he tells him, and if he sounds too fond, it's only because he's drunk and Nichushkin is admittedly pretty cute.

There's a moment in the bathroom when he looks at himself in the mirror and asks if he's seriously going to bang a rookie. Then he remembers Nichushkin's big hands and broad shoulders, and his big worshipful eyes, and yep, yes he is. After all, Nichushkin scored the gamewinner. Zhenya's practically doing him a favor by letting him fuck him.

When he comes back to their little booth, Nichushkin makes a motion to stand up, but Zhenya presses his hand down hard on his shoulder. "No, no, don't get up," Zhenya says, and cheerily slings himself across Nichushkin's lap. He can feel Nichushkin stiffen up underneath him, and Zhenya throws his arms around his neck.

"Relax, Valera," he murmurs lowly into his ear, and Nichushkin lets out an unsteady breath but untenses.

"Comfortable, Zhenka?" Seryozha asks dryly, and when Zhenya turns to look at him, he's got an eyebrow raised high in a very judgmental stare.

"Very," Zhenya says, utterly unfazed. Seryozha's lips thin disapprovingly. Zhenya shrugs it off and turns his attention back to Valera, who is blinking at them confusedly. Zhenya smooths a hand through his bristly blond hair, and is smug to note that Valera's attention returns solely to him.

Valera’s arms loop tentatively around Zhenya’s waist, one hand warm and huge on Zhenya’s hip. Zhenya shivers a little at how _big_ Valera is, now that he’s looking. It is a rare thing indeed to find an alpha who can match him in size, and while there’s a special pleasure in being dominated by shorter, stocky alphas, tonight Zhenya is in a mood to be pinned down and _controlled_. He’s a little dubious Valera might be _that_ alpha, but Zhenya has, very grudgingly, watched some tapes, and he knows Valera has that aggression, that meanness in him, if Zhenya can coax it out.

He’s facing away from Seryozha, but scent of him must be unmistakable, because Valera’s eyes widen and he can hear Seryozha groan loudly in exasperation. 

“Alright, you’re both adults,” he says loudly, and Zhenya cranes his head back to see him gathering up his coat. “I have small children at home who, trust me, I would rather be spending time with than you two. Just, please, for the love of God- be _careful_.”

“When have I ever not been careful,” Zhenya asks, and Seryozha scoffs and swats him gently on the head.

“I already know _you’re_ hopeless, I was talking to Valera,” Seryozha says loftily. Zhenya rolls his eyes, but he can feel Valera straightening up underneath him.

“I’ll be very careful,” he says earnestly. “I would never dare-” 

“Alright, that’s enough,” Zhenya cuts in. . The whole lot of them were ridiculously oversensitive. 

Seryozha narrows his eyes at him, but bends to kiss his temple. “I’m just looking out for you, brat. God knows you need a keeper,” he mutters with familiar exasperation. 

“Go back to your den, mama bear,” Zhenya huffs, reaching around Valera awkwardly to give Seryozha a tight hug. “I suppose I’ll see you in March,” he says a little regretfully when he pulls back. Seryozha makes a face. 

“We’ll see each other in Sochi,” he promises, and ruffles Zhenya’s hair like a child. “I’ll give the girls your love. And I’ll see you tomorrow,” he adds to Valera, who looks vaguely guilty.

“Yes, yes of course,” he says, and Seryozha takes his leave with one last pointed look at Zhenya. Zhenya waves goodbye to him cheerfully.

Zhenya turns a smug grin to Valera, who looks a bit like a cornered rabbit. Now that Seryozha is gone, Zhenya lets himself get a noseful of Valera’s sharp alphascent. He wriggles about on Valera’s lap, arranging himself more comfortably, and he’s pleased to note the smell only gets stronger. There’s something to be said for young, eager alphas, he thinks. It’ll be easy to get his way with this one.

“So, where were we, Valera?” he purrs lowly, and Valera’s eyes darken. He leans in to ( _finally_ ) kiss him, but Valera tilts his head back at the same time. Zhenya stares at him, dumbfounded. If he just wasted an entire night just to be jerked around by some goddamn _teenager_ -

“I thought we would do this at my place,” Valera says, cutting Zhenya’s building righteous fury neatly in half. 

“Oh,” Zhenya says, and as disappointed he feels at not getting to fuck a rookie in a bar bathroom, he does have to admit a bed would be more comfortable. There will be more rookies, he reminds himself. “Yeah, we can go to your place, I guess. How far?”

“Not far at all,” Valera says eagerly. “Barely ten minutes- you wait here, alright? I’ll go pay the tab.” Valera wriggles out from underneath him, and unwisely leaves Zhenya alone at the table with a half-empty bottle of Stoli. He watches Valera retreat hastily to the bar, and pours himself one for the road. _To sure things_ he thinks a little meanly, and shrugs back the twitch of guilt with a healthy gulp of vodka.

He shoves Valera’s coat at him when he returns, face nearly glowing with excitement. Zhenya sincerely hopes he’s not going to start talking about what an _honor_ it is to fuck him. 

Thankfully, all Valera does is sheepishly ask him to call a cab. “How did you even pay the bartender?” Zhenya snaps as he looks up the number on his phone. “Your English is worse than mine.”

“Oh, I, uh- I just gave him a hundred,” Valera admits, embarrassed. Zhenya snorts, but can’t really make fun of him for it, because he did the same thing countless times until his English was good enough to argue about tips.

He calls them a cab, and there is blessedly little time to stand about awkwardly waiting for it to show up. Valera even opens the door for him, a sweet if thoroughly unnecessary gesture. 

Valera climbs in after him and carefully doesn’t touch him at all, even though Zhenya can smell the want coming off him in waves. He sees Valera glancing up at the cab driver, and really, Zhenya has had enough of alpha propriety for one night. The instant the cab starts for Valera’s, Zhenya scoots over so that they’re pressed together, shoulder to knee, and sucks a kiss right under his ear. Valera tenses, and Zhenya can practically smell him unravelling. 

“Zhenya, the driver-” he hisses quietly, eyes wide, just as Zhenya drops a hand down to rub Valera through his pants. 

“He’s seen worse, I’m sure,” Zhenya murmurs. Valera is a lot bigger than he was expecting, and he can see himself getting wet, imagining him inside him. Valera must be able to smell it, because he makes a sharp inhale and moans softly, turning to grab Zhenya and haul him close. Zhenya hums, satisfied, as Valera crowds him into corner, not quite on his lap but all over him all the same.

“I’ve thought about this,” Valera says softly and Zhenya doesn’t think the rising color in his cheeks is a trick of the passing streetlights. 

“You have?” Zhenya asks, privately delighted. Valera doesn’t answer, but instead determinedly turns to sucking bruises into Zhenya’s jaw. Zhenya grins to himself and arches his head back to give Valera better access. 

Valera must have been serious when he said he lived close, because all too soon the cab stops with a lurch, and Valera is pulling off him. He fumbles apologies in clumsy English to the cab driver, but Zhenya just pulls out a fifty and hands it over the divider. “Keep change,” he grunts tersely in English, and pushes Valera out of the cab. 

They scurry inside to the elevators, and the doors have barely shut before Valera is pressing Zhenya into the elevator wall, cupping his chin and kissing him deeply. Zhenya moans weakly despite himself. Even as young as he is, Valera is an undeniably talented kisser. Zhenya scarcely hears the doors chime open, but Valera going stiff is hard to ignore. Zhenya glances over at a young man standing in the doorway, gaping at them.

“I’ll- I’ll take the next one,” he says dumbly. 

“Good idea,” Zhenya snaps, and pushes the door close button. He turns back to return to kissing Valera, but Valera presses his face to Zhenya’s neck, giggling. He’s infectious, and Zhenya finds himself laughing as well, and feeling strangely like a teenager again. 

The door chimes again, this time on the correct floor it seemed, because Valera drags Zhenya out onto the landing and down the hall. Zhenya is a little appalled at himself to note that at some point they started holding hands, but he can’t bring himself to let go either. He tells himself it’s just the omega in him, and once he’s gotten laid it’ll go back to normal.

Valera comes to a halt, and starts fussing with the door lock. Zhenya presses up against him to nip at his shoulder, and Valera nearly drops his keys. He hurriedly unlocks the door, and he’s barely closed the door behind Zhenya before Zhenya’s crowding him up against it. Zhenya kisses him just how he likes, deep and wet and messy, and he lets himself be lost in it.

In a flash, Valera has their positions reversed, and Zhenya has to swallow hard at the latent strength in his lanky body. His alphascent is nearly overwhelming now, and Zhenya can feel himself soaking his briefs. He briefly imagines Valera taking him against this door, and has to bite back a moan. Valera’s eyes are blown black with want, and Zhenya really thinks for a moment he might do it, right there, but then he takes a shuddering breath. 

“Bed,” Valera pants. “I want- in a bed,” and Zhenya is suddenly helpless but to comply.

The moment they pass into what must be Valera’s bedroom, Zhenya is scrambling to strip naked, but Valera grabs his hands. 

“No,” he says hoarsely, eyes large and earnest. “I want to,” and Zhenya would roll his eyes if he didn’t feel so desperately needy.

Valera sits him on the bed, and he kisses Zhenya maddeningly chastely as he unbuttons Zhenya’s shirt, and then presses fleeting kisses down Zhenya’s neck and along his collarbone. His own clothes don’t merit the same attention, nearly bursting the seams of his shirt as he rips it off himself. Zhenya lifts up his hips for Valera to tug his pants down, and feels strangely shy at his wide, adoring gaze. 

“You’re beautiful,” he tells him sincerely, and Zhenya scoffs quietly. 

“You can cut the crap, kid, I’m already in your bed,” Zhenya tells him, and Valera goes deep red.

“You _are_ , though,” Zhenya hears him mutter sulkily to himself. 

“Just get over here and fuck me,” Zhenya says exasperatedly. Valera throws the condoms on the bed and crawls on top of Zhenya and really, isn’t that so much better? 

“I will do my best,” Valera tells him earnestly, and Zhenya barely has the energy to mock him anymore. Valera wisely leans down to kiss him then, and gently spreads Zhenya’s legs. 

Zhenya moans into Valera’s mouth when he feels fingers rubbing careful circles around his hole, and wraps his arms around Valera’s shoulders to tug him closer. 

Zhenya can’t help his sigh of satisfaction when Valera finally slides a finger into him. “I’ve been told I have talented hands,” Valera tells him, and he’s grinning when he almost instantly finds Zhenya’s prostate and prods. 

“Yes, very talented,” Zhenya gasps, trying to thrust down against it. “Now, more.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re very pushy for an omega?” Valera asks, but he obediently adds another, slicking himself with Zhenya’s own natural lube. 

“Many times,” Zhenya says shortly. “Didn’t stop you before though, did it?”

“No,” Valera says, huffing a laugh. “I like it.”

It’s on the tip of Zhenya’s tongue to tell him _good_ , he ought to like it, but Valera chooses that moment to drag his fingers in a tight circle across Zhenya’s prostate, and then it’s all Zhenya can do to remember to breathe.

Valera pulls his hand out to add a third finger, and Zhenya lets out a truly embarrassing whine at the loss. 

“Shh, you’re almost there,” Valera says soothingly, and Zhenya would snap at him, but he does want to get fucked, and it would probably be best not to get thrown out for insulting his alpha before anything actually happened. Valera gives his neglected dick a few consolatory pumps, and Zhenya mentally forgives him.

Finally, _finally_ Valera is reaching for the condom box, and Zhenya takes a moment to appreciate Valera’s dick, hard against his belly. He’s pretty big, bigger even than Zhenya had estimated, and he feels himself gush a little at the thought of it inside him.

Valera positions himself above Zhenya, and Zhenya can feel him nudging at Zhenya’s opening. Zhenya spreads his legs as wide as he can in invitation, and Valera drops down to kiss Zhenya, slow and soft, while he pushes into him. 

It seems to take forever, and Zhenya feels skewered on it. Finally Valera pulls away from Zhenya’s mouth to gasp wetly into the crook of his neck, trembling with the effort of staying still for Zhenya to adjust. After a long, shaky moment, Zhenya hitches his legs around Valera’s waist and digs his heels in to encourage Valera to move. Valera groans and thrusts hard into him, knocking the wind out of Zhenya.

“I- I won’t last,” Valera pants apologetically. 

“I forgive you,” Zhenya tells him, because he’s too proud to admit he probably won’t either.

True to his word, it’s not long at all (or maybe it is- Zhenya can’t remember anymore) before Valera loses his rhythm entirely, bucking wildly into Zhenya before stiffening and then collapsing limply on top of him.. Zhenya allows himself a moment of regret that condoms are a necessity before groaning and wriggling a hand between the two of them to jerk himself off. 

His hand is weakly batted away, and Valera jerks him off fast and rough, reaching back to slide three fingers back into where he’s still slick and aching, and Zhenya makes a noise like he’s injured and arches off the bed, coming all over his stomach. 

Valera hauls himself off Zhenya to curl around him loosely, still panting hard, and Zhenya takes a moment to appreciate how tall and broad he is, to spoon Zhenya so easily. It’s rare enough he feels so secure in an alpha’s arms, and he lets himself enjoy it.

He can’t stay here forever, though, and the mess on his stomach and between his thighs will turn sticky and disgusting soon enough, so he pulls away with a regretful sigh. Valera makes an unhappy noise as Zhenya noses around the bathroom. He wipes himself off perfunctorily, and returns to bed to scrub Valera off, too. 

He’s rummaging around for his clothes when Valera finally sits up and pouts at him. “Do you have to leave now?”

“Yes,” Zhenya tells him, and reminds himself that Valera is only eighteen. “The plane leaves tomorrow morning, I have to get back to the hotel.”

Valera sinks back down into the mattress with a sigh, and Zhenya pauses in buttoning up his shirt to go back to bed. 

“Hey,” he says, feeling uncharacteristically tender. “We’ll see each other soon, remember? And we’ll be playing on the same team then.”

Valera still looks disappointed, so Zhenya allows him one last, deep kiss. “I’ll see you then, darling, yeah?” he asks, and Valera goes pink at the endearment. 

“I’ll see you then, Zhenya,” he murmurs, almost to himself, as if tasting the words. Zhenya grins at him, lounging naked in bed, and is sorely tempted to join him and risk oversleeping. He really can’t though, and he supposes part of growing up is accepting that.

It’s only when he’s climbing into a cab for the hotel that he realizes he didn’t even get his number. He shrugs to himself. There will be other nights.

**Author's Note:**

> [rips open shirt to reveal "i ❤ val nichushkin" chest tattoo]


End file.
